


first meetings

by Skyuni123



Series: Malcontent from the Eye of the Storm [3]
Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: First Meetings, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:22:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24996811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyuni123/pseuds/Skyuni123
Summary: how charles and jerome found themselves at the same support group meeting for Morally Sane Partners of Current Villains and what follows, after that
Relationships: Charles/Jerome Squalor
Series: Malcontent from the Eye of the Storm [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/755361
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	first meetings

Charles doesn’t go straight to the Hotel Denouement from his damp tent in the midst of the Wild Woods. It’s one thing to learn about the existence of [REDACTED] and [REDACTED], with a smidge of [REDACTED], but if his meeting with the strange stone-shoed man had taught him anything, he needed to take care of himself too. 

So, he makes a stop. 

The City is on the way - technically - and it’s not too hard to hail a horse-drawn cab, once the rain clears up, and stop off at the Calamity Clinic - which is, by word of mouth - anything but. The building isn’t particularly nice on the outside, but Charles is wowed by the interior, which is lots of faintly glowing walls, pastel colours, and an overall aura of kindness. 

The bored young lady behind the reception desk looks up as he approaches. He is still very damp.

“Yeah?” She says, and blows a large bubble with her gum. It’s the same lurid pink as her hair. 

“Um, hi there.” He says, not quite sure what he should ask. How does one exactly put to words ‘my partner tended towards crime and villainy and I’m in need of finding some absolution before I head off towards my denouement?’ 

So he says exactly that. “My partner tended towards crime and villainy and I’m in need of finding some absolution before I head towards my denouement.”

The receptionist wrinkles her nose. “Oh yeah. We get a lot of those. What’s your name?”

“Charles [REDACTED].” He replies.

She scribbles it down on a folder using an ink pen, then hands him a stack of flyers. One is an advertisement for some kind of sleeping pill - ‘Do you have too many worries? Try a fourteen year long coma, today!’ - and another advertises 14 cents off a haircut at a local hair salon. The third is a map of the clinic.

“You’re in room sixteen.” The woman says, and points vaguely in the direction of the map. “The one for Morally Sane Partners of Current Villains. Starts in about… ten minutes?”

“What, today?” 

“We’re always willing to provide.” The woman says, again vaguely, and goes back to her writing.

“But-”

She ignores him.

Such as the case may be, many service employees are often maligned by their customers, on the basis of very little. Charles is not one to complain, but he wishes that the receptionist could have been a little more help. 

But, if he’s only got ten minutes…

He picks up his briefcase and trudges off into the clinic. The hallways are wide and expansive. Kindly looking people, some dressed in doctors uniforms, smile at him when he passes.

He walks by a lot of doors. One reads ‘Very Fine Daughters’, and when he peeks through the small window in the door he sees a lot of young women sitting behind school desks; there’s a bunch of rooms without anything written on them, and a lot with numbers rather than words.

Finally, he reaches room sixteen. There’s a handwritten note that says ‘Support Group for Morally Sane Partners of Current Villains’, so he steals himself and pushes the door open.

The room is empty.

Which is all very anti-climatic.

There are a bunch of chairs set out in a circle and a whiteboard at one end, so it  _ seems  _ like a meeting room, though there is no-one in sight.

Well, he’s still a little early. He takes a seat and places his worn briefcase under the chair. The room is warm so he takes off his trench coat.

There’s a spot of dust on the sleeve of his button down - white, as always - and he rubs at it, mildly irritated for reasons he can’t place. It’s been a long road to get here.

Time passes. He drums his fingers on his knee and tries not to look at his watch.

Time passes.

At three minutes past the hour, the door explodes open, rattling against the wall with a thud, and… the person who comes striding through isn’t at all what Charles expects. He’s a tall man, impeccably dressed in a pinstripe suit, with the oddest moustache. He is plainly and purposefully attractive too. “I am  _ terribly  _ sorry, I found myself mislaid with all the corridors, and-”

He must abruptly take in Charles’ confused expression. “You’re not running this support group, are you?”

“No.” Charles replies, though he supposes his usual clothing could easily make it seem so. “I am, unfortunately, one of the members. I suppose.” 

“Oh.” The other man sits down next to him, and unbuttons the first two buttons on his coat as he does. “Your partner turned out to be truly wicked as well?”

“Unfortunately.” He says, with a sigh. “I’m Charles.”

“Jerome.” Jerome holds out his hand. He smells faintly of mint.

They shake, and Charles feels a hand so unlike Sir’s, so smooth and polished, against his own. It hurts, just a little bit.

They wait a few moments more. It’s not awkward, nor tense. Considering, perhaps. 

The counselor still doesn’t show.

“Well, this is rather pointless, isn’t it?” Charles says, and reaches towards his briefcase. He’s not even sure where he’s planning to go.

What he doesn’t expect is Jerome to reach out, almost suddenly, and point a hand on his arm. “Don’t go.”

“Uh-”

“Don’t go- um- yet.” Jerome says. His nails are nicely manicured. A faint blush crosses his face. “In truth, this is the least stressed I’ve felt in days.”

And surprisingly enough, Charles  _ agrees.  _ Days with Sir always felt frenetic. Jumpy. It could be the best of times, but it would so often be the worst. Days on the road weren’t necessary good, either,

Sometimes it felt okay to be almost alone in a room to just  _ be _ . “You’re not wrong.”

“I’m-not?” Jerome blinks at him, almost completely taken aback. “Sorry. It’s just- for so long I was obliged to stick to her rules, follow the In thing-” He shudders. “-and I never had it right.” 

“She doesn’t sound like a very nice person.”

“She wasn’t.”

“Is she-” It’s hard to say the word ‘dead’ - even now. It just reminds him of the Mill and the Baudelaires, and Sir…

“No.” Jerome replies, looking disgusted. “She fell in love with an evil man. A truly evil man. She’s with him now.”

“I don’t think my partner was truly evil.” Charles muses. “Never good, though. I never knew what I saw in him. And how he treated those three children - oh, it was terrible.” 

“Three children?” Jerome asks, suddenly sitting up in his seat. “You don’t mean- they weren’t called the Baudelaires, were they?”

“Yes.” Charles breathes, because someone else  _ knows,  _ and someone else  _ understands.  _ “They are.”

And then they’re talking, and they’re talking, and it doesn’t stop, even when they hail a cab and go to a restaurant, that is normal and Italian and there’s definitely no salmon. They share a bottle of wine, and Charles loosens his tie, and he gets it, suddenly.

What it’s like to feel like one part of a whole. 

Jerome looks across his meal at him in a way that isn’t meant to belittle, that makes him feel respected. He listens, he asks questions, he’s kind, and he  _ gets it.  _

He even pays for the meal.

Charles offers, but Jerome waves a hand and says - “It’s nothing. You’ve given me some of the best conversation I’ve had in years.”

And then, the meal is over.

The air is cool outside when they leave the restaurant. It’s winter. There’ll be snow on the mountains soon if there isn’t already, but Charles can hardly feel it. He’s too wrapped up in the warmth and the understanding in his heart.

“Where are you going to go?” Jerome asks, after a minute. 

They’re both looking up at the sky.

He can’t tell him about the Denouement or the secret business. That’s the one secret he has to keep. “I don’t know.”

“Would you-” Jerome pauses, and straightens his suit a little. “Would you like to come home with me?” 

And the way he asks - it’s very, very tempting. And it’s very unlike Charles to accept. “But you’re-” He’d- well, he’d-  _ assumed,  _ considering the terrible wife and everything, but- he feels a little silly, all of a sudden.

“Options, Charles.” Jerome smiles, a little shyly, and takes the smallest of steps forward. “Can I?”

“Yes.” Charles breathes.

And he’s not been kissed like that in  _ years. _

In the taxi back to Jerome’s place, Jerome straightens his suit again and says, “Even if we hadn’t- well- I would have invited you to stay, anyway. I live in a penthouse. Many, many options.” 

Charles just  _ laughs.  _ Somehow, despite the business at the Denouement, things feel like the might just turn out alright. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on the [ tumblr ](http://eph-em-era.tumblr.com)


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